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“Let me whisper sweet nothings in your ear.”

Welcome back to Sweet Nothings, a little shadow of Sweet Saturday Samples, until that sweet treat starts back up. Until that happens, I’m doing a little weekly blog where you can post a “sweet” excerpt (PG 13 or milder) from one of your works. Remember: please hold the excerpt to 350 words or less. But if your cutting needs just a few more words, that’s okay too. I won’t be counting. LOL

Today’s “Sweet Nothing” is another excerpt from my (hopefully) soon-to-be released Victorian historical novel, As Long As You’re Mine. We’re continuing with another snippet from under the tree.

“And I have not given you permission to use my first name.”

“Considering the nature of our introduction, I believe we can be on a first name basis without additional scandal raising its head.”

“Wretch!”

He laughed at her outrage. “Besides, in three weeks we will be married. If you think I’m going to call my wife by a title you are quite mistaken.”

A moment later, she emerged from around the tree, her face ashen. “Three weeks?” Her voice had a hushed, tentative quality.

“Your father named the day this morning before we parted. In the private chapel at his estate in Essex, I believe. I did not feel in a position to gainsay him, seeing that he himself witnessed part of our indiscretion. He sent to the estate immediately to have the first banns read tomorrow.” Rafe sighed. “It is not what either of us wants, Samantha, but it will be done. Your father insists on it and, reluctantly, so do I. And if you do not consent—”

“He will disinherit me. Oh, yes, Mr. Beauregard,” her voiced softened as her brows arched. “I have lived with that threat for quite a while. It is what drove me to Raiford’s bed and, ultimately, to you.” She eyed him, head to foot, her face impassive.

With a shake of her head she turned away to pace in front of the tree, anger in every step. She clenched and relaxed her hands as she moved but, at last, her frantic strides slowed until she halted before him. Head up, shoulders back, she stared straight into his eyes and said, “Yes, Mr. Beauregard, I will marry you.”

The filtered light glinting on the various shades of gold in her hair reminded him of a crown. She had acquiesced with the grace of a queen and his opinion of her raised a notch.

12 Responses to Sweet Nothings–10/26/13 As Long As You’re Mine

Here’s mine, from Teaching Maya, available now on the Kindle store. Brief synopsis: Unable to experience arousal or reach orgasm with her first boyfriend, twenty-one year old Maya hatches a plan to seduce the best-selling author Ryan Clayborn during a two-week vacation, and have him coach her in bed. Ryan warns Maya that an affair with him would include whips, handcuffs and canes. But Maya is drawn to him as a moth to a flame…

Ryan had laid a set of towels on the bathroom countertop, along with an unopened toothbrush. “Again, nicely done, Mr. Clayborn…” I murmured. Ryan evidently also knew how to cater to women sharing his bedroom. “Well, what did you think, Maya?” I scolded myself. He had always been surrounded by women.

“Good morning!” Ryan raised his eyebrows at my grouchy look, as I came into the kitchen, wearing one of his t-shirts. “You look grumpy, kitten,” he laughed at me, handing me a cup of coffee. It was perfection. Milk, sugar, just the way I took it. How did he even know how I took my coffee? Oh, but he was good, really, really good.

“I went downstairs for some croissants, come…” he gestured to the kitchen table. There was a basket of croissants, some butter and jam, and orange juice. It looked mouth-watering. As did he. He was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, and he looked utterly delicious.

“Have you been up long?” I asked. What time was it? I looked around for a clock, saw the one on his kitchen stove. “Shit, it’s 11am?”

“Mmm-hmm. I didn’t have the heart to wake you…”

I sat at the table. He settled down across from me, and poured me some orange juice.

“You haven’t eaten yet?” I asked curiously, helping myself to a croissant. “You must be starving…”

He grinned. “I did eat…” he said, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. “And now, it’s time for second breakfast.”

I giggled. He looked so very cheerful this morning. “Second breakfast, isn’t that a hobbit thing?”

“Say what you want, baby,” he said loftily, munching on a croissant, demolishing it in two bites, and reaching out for another. “If you do want another croissant though, I suggest you hurry up and eat your first one before I finish all of them…”

“Why are you so cheerful?” I asked.

“Why not?” He smiled sunnily. “A beautiful woman is in my apartment, she’s agreed to spend the next two weeks with me, it all seems pretty good to me…”

I’ve loved reading all these excerpts. I’m posting a little snippet from my fantasy story Keep The Fire Burning, part of the Lyrical Press First Frosts Anthology which will be available on the 11th of November.

No matter what, she’d never tell how perfect he was. Surely she’d die with his image imprinted in her mind.
The tunnel grew lighter and a wafting breeze swept one of his glorious golden curls close to her cheek.
“Oh,” he groaned. “We must stop for a few moments. Forgive me.”
“Rest a bit, sire.” She eased him toward the floor. Crouching close, she snuck a glance at his beautiful torso. “We’re over halfway there.”
“And you’re red like an apple.” He touched her cheek with a smooth-nailed fingertip. “You should have said you found me too heavy to bear.”
She shook her head and lifted her palm to her burning cheek. “Oh no, my prince, you’re not too heavy.”
He smiled, and stole her heart. “Oh,” she whispered at the loss, even though the sweet thief didn’t know what he’d taken.
“See, you’re in pain. If not for this ankle, I’d carry you, fair Cora.”
Goosebumps rose on her skin, for his arms looked brawny strong. “No, I’m not hurt. Have you rested enough?” She wanted to get out, in case the earth might shake again and trap them in the mountain.
“Just a little longer.”
The light at the tunnel’s mouth had slid well down the rock wall. Darkness would come before she returned home. She nipped her lip.
“When we reach the castle, Cora, you will be rewarded well.”
A tinge of hurt rose. “I’d have helped anyone in danger and not wanted reward.”
“I shall create a special order of merit,” he said, as though he’d not heard her. “I shall call it the Order of Corality.”
She giggled. “Very nice, sire. Come on. If we don’t try, we won’t get back to the castle.” She edged her shoulder under his arm and let him lean on her again to rise. “That’s it,” she said, luxuriating in his touch.

Great excerpts from all of you. I want to play today, but I’ve been waffling over what to share. So, I’ll just say how wonderful all of your works sound. Ella, best wishes on the release next week. Kay, I adore the way you captured March’s realization that he was over the moon in love with Bris. Sue, I’m so intrigued by the premise of your story. Soul catcher? Sounds amazing. Jenna, I’ll be buying As Long As Your Mine as soon as I finish Only Scandal Will Do. Unfortunately, it will fall into my extensive queue to TBRs on my Kindle. Great reason to read faster.

A snippet from my WIP, The Soul Collector’s Second Chance. Gideon works for the devil as a soul collector. He and Phoebe just met but there may be a problem. He decides to solicit advice from his best friend Charles.

The fine gravel skittered under the pressure of my leather soles as I marched with purposeful long strides to the back of Charles’ house. A small smile played on my face in anticipation of telling my friend the good news. When I had called to ask if I could come over after the job Charles instructed me to go to the back patio.

“There you are. What took you so long?”

“I did the job and drove over from my place immediately. School has not let out yet I gather since you are still marking papers.”

“Yes the last ones before the summer.” Charles loved his job but the paper work, not so much.

Charles put his pen down, got up and gestured to me to sit on one of the recliners. Then he retrieved two beer from the cooler, brought one to me and sat with his beer on the other chair. After a large swallow he said, “Ah that hit the spot. I can tell you have something to say. What’s up?”

“Yes it is true. I need your advice. I met a woman earlier today.”

Charles uttered a surprised exclamation and beer spewed out of his mouth. He coughed repeatedly to clear his throat.

“Well Gids” — I do not care for the nick name my friends have given me but there is no point in resisting— “why is it such news that you’ve met a woman?”

I picked at the bottle’s label while I reflected. “I met her today while I was at a job site.” I waited for Charles to get the point. He watched me with a blank expression and motioned to carry on.

“At the job site Charles….”

His eyes widened. “You mean as you were in the process of transferring the soul from the client? That’s remarkable!”

“Yes!” I all but shouted.

“But people can’t perceive the soul collectors when you are working. Beth told me this.”

Wonderful excerpts, Jenna and Ella! Here’s mine from the Prospective Princess. The moment when March realizes he’s in love with Brislynn.

The golden banners had hung high across the ballroom that night, and hundreds of people danced and drank. March headed to a back room in the palace, where the Earl of Tamar’s buxom daughter had promised her particular brand of pleasure. Knowing he would be occupied for some time, he made a final sweeping glace of the ballroom, but Bris was missing.

The lady often wandered by herself, preferring solitude to the festivities of a crowd. March sighed and strode to the southern gate. The earl’s daughter would have to wait. He descended the path to the beach. The lively celebrations dimmed in favor of the whispering tide. As he suspected, the girl sat alone on a rock, admiring the beauty of the sunset.

He shook his head and a faint smile flexed the muscles of his face. Finding her safe, he moved to return to the party and the earl’s daughter, but stopped short.

Bris began to play her lyre and sing; March’s feet sank in the sand. The lilt of her charming voice reverberated through him as if he had been deaf to music, to beauty, to love until that moment.
He stood enraptured with her song as she transformed before his eyes. No longer a girl, she’d become a woman. Her contralto vibrato held a magical key of music that unlocked his heart in a song of intimacy. The passion with which she sang that night reminded him of her kiss in the queen’s garden and brought to mind all the things for which she cared. Her angelic voice rang out the simple notes she apparently composed on the spot—a tune about her true love, a man of great character and kindness. In that moment, he knew he would spend the remainder of his life trying to be that man, trying to be better than he was to earn her unreserved love.

Last night someone tried to steal the widowed Mrs. Emily Metcalfe’s pumpkins. She’s certain the culprit is her old childhood nemesis and the secret love of her youth, Henry, nicknamed Hank, whom she hasn’t seen in ten years.

Henry, Baron Grey, who’s never forgotten the girl he loved but couldn’t pursue so long ago, decides to catch Emily’s would-be thief. Even after she reveals his childhood nickname–the one he would rather forget. And even after her jealous pet goose bites him in an embarrassing place.

Oh, the things a man does for love.

EXCERPT:
“Emily, even with Henry, formidable as he is–” Hank glared at the goose. The goose glared back “–you need protection. I will send over some footmen to guard the place.”

“No. Turnip Cottage belongs to Charlotte’s husband. What will the townspeople think, with Lord Grey’s servants about my house?”

Her refusal increased his fury. The sight of her hand on that damned goose’s head didn’t improve his mood, either. He balled his fists as his patience thinned and something else thickened. “I’ll find you a guard dog. You must have some protection out here all alone.”

“But I have Henry.” She patted the goose’s head and the bird snuggled into her hand. Again.

Heat flooded Hank, part desire for Emily’s touch, and part desire to murder that damned goose, who was where he wanted to be. His insides groaned. “Very well, then, you leave me no choice. I will help you catch the culprits.”

“But–”

He changed his voice to the voice that either melted a woman or earned him a slap in the face. “Who knows, mayhap we would enjoy ourselves as I lie in wait with you.” I would love to lie with you.

Her eyes widened. Had she understood the innuendo?

“I cannot stay alone with you, and you know it,” she said, her voice severe.

“You are a widow in your own home and no one will see. I will make sure of it.”

“No.” She marched back into her cottage and slammed the door. Henry smirked and waddled away.
Hank grinned. He would be back, whether she liked it or not.

Great excerpt, Jenna.
Here is mine from The Secret Life of Miss Anna Marsh, book #2 in The Marriage Game that releases on November 7th!
“We’ll be in Kent,” Rutherford said to Marcus as they shared brandy in his study after dinner. “No balls or other parties. No other gentlemen.” Thank God for that.
Marcus raised a skeptical brow. “Miss Marsh has been ignoring you pretty studiously today. Do you really think she’s that stupid?”
“That is part of the problem. She’s too damned smart for her own good. Trust me. Once I have her to myself, she’ll change her mind.”
“She’s never struck me as being a particularly malleable sort of female. You know her best, of course.”
Rutherford frowned. “You may be right. She always was an obstinate child, but I thought she’d become less stubborn. At least she appears that way. There must be something I can offer her.”
Marcus’s lips tilted up. “Love?”
“How can you,” Rutherford demanded, “utter that word out loud and not shiver?”
Marcus shook his head. “Blame it on my falling in love with Phoebe when I was twenty. Neither the emotion nor the word has ever scared me.”
“Yes, well, you must be the only gentleman of my acquaintance who can say that.”
“Probably.” Marcus agreed. “Do you love Anna?”
“Of course I do. She’s been like a sister to me.” Except recently his thoughts had not been at all brotherly.
“How do you plan to approach her?” Marcus asked.
“I’ve not quite made out my plan of battle yet.” Rutherford took out his pocket watch and rubbed it. “I intend to use this weekend to think about it. Until then, I will stay as close to her as possible. I don’t want anyone else to decide to use the break between the Seasons to catch her interest.” Rutherford was beginning to wish for a return to arranged marriages. Surely their fathers would have betrothed them. In fact, they should have done it when she was born.